Let’s Take A Moment To Look Back At The Forgotten Masterpiece Known As ‘Suburgatory’

The sharply-written, superbly-acted sitcom starring Jane Levy and Jeremy Sisto aired for three seasons on ABC before getting the ol’ “Good luck on your future endeavors” from the network in 2014. The series followed the aforementioned Levy and Sisto as Tessa and George Altman, a father and daughter who escape from New York City to the blue skies and apple pies of the suburbs after George finds a box of condoms he mistakingly believes belongs to Tessa. It’s a fish out of water comedy amplified to absurdly beautiful heights.

The nominal lead of the series is Levy, who brilliantly mixes the nuanced insecurity of adolescence with a savvy wit that belies her age. Cloaked in her military jacket that shields her against so much more than inclement weather, Tessa’s tough, detached demeanor made the moments where we caught a glimpse of her squishy vulnerability all that much more impactful. Levy has since taken her talents to the big screen as her latest movie, the not to be taken literally Don’t Breathe, topped the box office during its first two weeks of release. While Levy is the straw that stirs the Suburgatory drink, the series was elevated to DVR season pass status on the strength of the eclectic ensemble cast that inhabit the quirky community of Chatswin.

Before she was plotting to take down Evil Corp in Mr. Robot, Carly Chaikin was dazzling sitcom audiences with her deliriously funny deadpan delivery as Tessa’s frenemy Dalia Royce. Whereas Tessa’s friendship with the delightfully idiosyncratic Lisa Shay (Allie Grant) often brought out the best in Tessa, her oftentimes toxic relationship with Dalia brought out the worst… and that’s putting it gently.

One of the many reasons Suburgatory was a notch above other sitcoms is creator Emily Kapnek’s ability to create fully-formed adult characters who don’t just exist to serve Tessa and company. George Altman’s relationship with Cheryl Hines’ Dallas Royce isn’t treated as some secondary plot; it’s given proper time along the marquee with Tessa’s on-again/off-again relationship with Ryan Shay (Parker Young). On the surface, both pairings could be classified as using the old opposites attract trope, but Kapnek eschews that well-trodden sitcom terrain to imbue both relationships with realistic depth and heart. Sure, Dallas and Ryan’s faults are played for laughs, but they’re both given enough moments of emotional vulnerability for viewers to invest in them as viable love interests for the Altmans.

The talented roster of theatrical prowess runs so deep, the above cast of characters doesn’t even include the Shays (Chris Parnell and Ana Gasteyer), Malik (Maestro Harrell), Noah (Alan Tudyk), or Mr. Wolfe (Rex Lee), all of which added to the boundless charm of the series.

What makes the sitcom so memorable — even in the age of peak TV — is the way Kapnek fluently toggled between punk rock and tenderness. Suburgatory made you laugh; it will make you cry; and it would have made fun of you for trying to force a third thing to satisfy the rule of threes. In the sometimes overly-saccharine world of sitcoms, Suburgatory earned its sentimentality, and during those rare moments when it chose to take its foot off the acerbic accelerator, it was never better.

Despite its cult status, Suburgatory is not an easy series to stream for free. While season one episodes are available to purchase on Amazon Video,YouTube Red, and Google Play, full episodes are MIA on Netflix and Hulu. (Are you a Fullscreen subscriber? If so, you’re in luck!) I’m fairly certain Suburgatory’s lack of accessibility isn’t a criminal offense, but I’ve sent a few exploratory emails to a number of litigious types just to be sure.

While it never quite garnered the acclaim lavished on more universally-adored sitcoms during its tenure on ABC, Suburgatory should be remembered as a charmingly unique gem that went out, quite literally, with a bang.